"This isn't about the fact of knowing me, Gerard." I said, laying down in the proper position on my bed, with my head on the pillow.
"Move over." He said, walking towards my bed.
"And if I don't?" I asked, arching my eyebrow.
"I'll move you myself." He laughed.
"Fair enough." I laughed. "But you're over here." I pointed to the other side.
"The inside, really?" He scoffed as he climbed in, laying next to me with his feet hanging off of the end of the bed.
My bed wasn't as big as he thought it was, it was relatively small, but I didn't care. It was a bed and it was defiantely much better than that cot I slept on for a few months, until we finally built another room onto the diner.
I rolled my body over to face him, not realizing how close we were to each other. I noticed he didn't have his jacket, holster, or anything Party Poison related on, just his dark grey t-shirt and his jeans. His eyes were a darker shade of brown and looked softer now than they were before. They matched the color of his roots that were beginning to show underneath his vibrant red mop of hair. His defined facial structure complimented his lightly colored thin lips, when he would smile.
I realized that I wasn't looking at a Killjoy or a rebel. I was just looking at Gerard, as a normal person (well as 'normal' as normal gets with him that is). It was extremely hard to detatch yourself from your 'character' once you live it, but he made it look easy. There were times out on a mission when you think you were invincible because that's how you imagined you were as a Killjoy, when in reality, you were the same person who had the broken leg at school once, because you tried jumping from the top of the stairs.
Maybe that's why Hailey and I didn't get a long most of the time, because she was always in one mode and never really tried to get away from herself.
"So, would you like to tell me what's wrong? So I can try to help at least." He said quietly, fiddling with a strand of hair that kept falling onto my face.
"That's the last thing you tell someone to try and get them to tell you." I said back.
"C'mon. Tell me." He whined quietly. I had a feeling the rest of them were at my door trying to listen to us talking.
"There's nothing you can do about it if I did." I said quietly.
"You're not pregnant, are you?" He asked. I didn't answer him. He stopped playing with my hair and stared at me. "Are you?"
"No. You ass. Why would you even think that? Better yet, why would you even ask that?" I almost yelled. He let out a sigh of relief.
"You're the one who put it out there."
"I did not. You just assumed."
"Then why did you hesitate when I asked you? Hmmm?"
"It's an emotion called shock, idiot." I laughed. "You'd think, you of all people, would know a lot about that after living with me for so long." I said.
"Now that's assuming." He laughed.
"Again, Why would you even think that?" I repeated.
"I mean, you do live with 4 other, fully grown, men--"
"And a little girl, a bitchy woman, and Dr. D." I interrupted.
"Not my point." He paused. "You have your options." He finished. I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, like I would procreate with one of them." I laughed.
"Awwh. I think it would be cute to have a mini Mikey running around." He smiled.
"Yeah. Then you can run after him, not me." I said. There was some silence for a moment.
"Well, what about me?" He said, looking into my eyes.
"I'm debating on not choosing you at the moment." I laughed.
"Wait. So I was a choice?" He asked.
"I don't think about this stuff in my spare time off, Gerard. You just asked out of the blue and it was quick. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. That's why I said 'choice'."
"Really?" He asked curiously.
"If I did. I would hope that that child ended up with half of the brain cells that you lack." I said.
"Fair enough." He said. "Now will you tell me what the fuck has been going on with you since we left today?" He asked, being extremely serious now.
"If I told you, would you shut up about it?" I said. He nodded.
YOU ARE READING
Unexpected and Underended (MCR/Killjoys Fan Fic)Fanfiction
2019. Nothing special to say about really. Life was about as normal as any day could've been. You had the working classes and business officials. Self-expression was nothing, it was imaginary, and frowned upon. Either you worked for Better Living In...